Azalea laughed a little at the recollection,—then she sighed.
"Why the sigh?" asked Van Reypen, looking at the expressive face of the girl, as her smile faded and her sensitive mouth drooped at the corners.
"Oh,—nothing—and everything! Don't ask questions!" She shook her shoulders as if flinging off a troublesome thought. "I want to forget the whole subject,—let's talk of other things."
"All right,—let's. Let's talk of my unworthy self, for instance."
"Why do you say your 'unworthy self'? Because you so look on yourself? or for the sake of being contradicted? or just for nonsense?"
The brown eyes smiled into his, and Azalea looked very roguish and saucy as she demanded an answer.
"Habit, I daresay. It's considered the thing for one to look upon himself as unworthy. Of course, I'm not all to the bad!"
"No, I suppose not. I've noticed saving graces now and then."
"You have! What, for instance? You see, I love to talk about myself!"
"Well, for one thing, you've been very kind to me. I was in a sorry position to-day, and you and Cousin William backed me up so beautifully, that I pulled through. If you hadn't I'd have collapsed and given up the game, in sheer fright."